What Would Happen
by Gypsy3
Summary: Haunting memories come back to Frank. Will he finally be able to move past them?
1. Firelight Memories

Title: What Would Happen

Author: Gypsy 

Comments: Sure. Flames and Kisses are welcome all the same.

gypsybaby1@attbi.com

Spoilers: None.

Archive: Please ask first.

Rating: PG to PG-13 depending on chapter

Disclaimers: The characters involved the property of NBC Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters, however, are the property of the author. So this means you can't sue me!! Unless you want my car payment, collection of river rocks, unique goblets and my clones... who only mind me... some of the time…

****

Frank stared mutely into the dancing flames of the fireplace. The steady rain pattering against his windows brought a chill to the apartment. Even though it was early spring, it was still cold out. Add to that the damp in the air, and it provided Frank with a physical chill he couldn't get rid of no matter how warmly he dressed or how close to a heater he stood.

To make matters worse, it was that time of year again. He shook his head and reached for the glass on the old trunk in front of him. It was an old leather steamer trunk that he used as a coffee table - a gift from his paternal grandfather. Being the right height to rest his feet on or a glass of wine when the whim moved him, Frank just couldn't bear to part with it. He studied the reflection of the firelight in the deep burgundy depths of the liquid held inside the Grand Cru glass. That time of year again. He hated the month of March.

Tingles of acidity, berries, clove, pepper and a hint of vanilla teased his mouth as he took a slight drink of the blackberry wine. The warmth of the alcohol working it's way into his bloodstream spread down his neck and across his shoulders, but it brought him no real warmth. Deep brown eyes stared into the fire and unwillingly thought back just two years… Over and over he kept asking himself 'what if?' What if he'd been just that little bit faster… just that little bit smarter… what if he'd succeeded.

__

'No one can control what happens to us Agent Donovan.'

"I understand that Paul." Frank turned to Director Bloom and shook his head. "But this time I could have. I should have known this was going to happen. I should have been there."

Frank shook his head again, trying to clear the cobwebs of memories away that had haunted him for the last few years. Without fail every March since it happened, the mists of memory had come back to haunt him. Every night in the month of March, up until that fateful anniversary, he prayed as he lay awake in his bed that the memories would leave him alone for just one night.

__

'What would happen if we kissed'

Frank sat up, his body tensing and stiffening at the memory. He didn't want them, didn't want to remember his failure…

__

'Would your tongue slip past my lips

Would you run away, would you stay?'

--

__

It was the spring of 1998 and a monsoon had laid siege to Washington. Just when everyone thought the storms had abated and moved further inland, more rain came and poured down on the Capitol. Everyone was beginning to think that another flood of biblical proportions was coming. On a more personal front, Frank had been dating a woman off an on when his work allowed him to but he wasn't serious about her. Deep down he figured she knew that little fact. It became painfully clear that she didn't on the night he met her...

Amy, the woman he'd been seeing, had called him and asked him to meet her at a local jazz bar for a drink. He'd needed a break and agreed to meet her there. It wasn't raining when he'd left the house, but it was by the time he found the bar. He gave the keys over to the valet and made his way past the doorman into the smoky main room. What was it about bars and smoke? He found Amy easily and settled down at the table. As usual they passed the time with idle chitchat and a few drinks. The house band played throughout the night, nothing too impressive. He stood and was about to say goodnight when the room went dark and the club emcee came onstage.

"Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen!" He smiled and waited for the polite applause to die down.

Frank sat back down as Amy grinned from ear to ear. "Ohhhh yes yes yes! She's here tonight!"

"Who?"

"Fiona!" she squealed - as if that answered his question. Frank stared at her blankly then turned his attention to the emcee.

"We have a rare treat for you all tonight. By popular demand, we asked and asked and asked for this lovely lady to come back... and she has decided to grace us with a one-night performance! Please help me in welcoming the lovely, the only, The Chanteuse - FIONA!"

Raucous applause filled the room, many people gave a standing ovation as the emcee left the stage. The spotlight faded and a soft guitar filled the room. The spotlight was softer when it reappeared and highlighted the woman standing on stage. She had her eyes closed and all that could be seen was her head, neck and shoulders. She had thick straight black hair, parted on the side and slicked back so it hung over her shoulders. Her lips were full and soft, her lipstick shimmering as she breathed.

"Electricity, eye to eye

Hey don't I know you

I can't speak

Stripped my senses

On the spot

I've never been defenseless

I can't even make sense of this

You speak and I don't hear a word"

Frank was enthralled. Her voice was mellow with a touch of rasp to it that felt like nails dragging sensually down his spine. The spotlight widened to the entire stage. Fiona was dressed in a simple black ankle-length dress that was slit up to her hips on both sides. The spaghetti straps flowed over creamy pale shoulders and her arms were encased in opera length black gloves. A sheer scarf wrapped around her throat and hung down her back. When she finally opened her eyes, the most intriguing pair of light amber brown eyes captivated all the men in the room.

"What would happen if we kissed

Would your tongue slip past my lips

Would you run away, would you stay?

Or would I melt into you

Mouth to mouth, lust to lust

Spontaneously combust"

As she spoke of tongues and lust, Frank's mind turned away from the bar and to the vivid images of he and the lovely Fiona in bed together. Their bodies hot and sweaty, writhing together. Her soft raspy voice crying out in pleasure or purring in his ear as he lowered his mouth down on her core, his tongue flicking feather light over her tenderness as she squirmed underneath him..

"The room is spinning out of control

Act like you didn't notice

Brushed my hand"

His mind ran away again when her voice rose again. In his mind, his hands roamed over her neck and shoulders. Her eyes were closed and her face was tilted up to him as his lips closed over hers, his hand covering her throat tenderly. His hands slid down over her shoulders as they kissed and he grasped her by the hips. 

"Forbidden fruit

Ring on my finger

You're such a moral, moral man

You throw it away, no question

Will I pretend I'm innocent"

He lifted her up onto his lap and lay back settling her over his hips. His hands found her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples as she smiled down at him. Coughing slightly, Frank shook his head and reached for his glass of water with a shakey hand. He was vaguely aware of Amy watching him closely.

"What would happen if we kissed

Would your tongue slip past my lips

Would you run away, would you stay

Or would I melt into you

Mouth to mouth, lust to lust

Spontaneously combust"

"Frank? Frank!" Amy patted his arm. "Are you alright Frank? Your cheeks are flushed..."

"Uh huh... yeah..." came the rather inarticulate answer as Frank kept watching Fiona sing. His imagination was still running rampant with erotic fantasies about what he could be doing with and to the sultry singer.

"I struggle with myself again

Quickly the walls are crumbling

Don't know if I can turn away"

Frank was struggling with himself as she sang. He was in a physically embarrassing predicament and his date was getting more and more irate by the second.

"Frank Donovan! What is wrong with you?!" Amy hissed.

He could see that she realized that Frank was off in 'Frank-World' with Fiona. Suddenly he felt very embarrassed for her. He was supposed to be her date. In the back of his mind, he kept replaying their earlier conversation. She'd asked him there to talk about getting more serious in their relationship... Something about Amy couldn't let him get any closer. It was a gut feeling that made him hold her at arm's length. Perhaps it was just her clingy nature that put him off.

"What would happen if we kissed

Would your tongue slip past my lips

Would you run away, would you stay?

Or would I melt into you

Mouth to mouth, lust to lust

Spontaneously combust"

Applause erupted as Fiona finished singing. Out of the corner of his eye, Frank watched as Amy huffed and stomped out of the bar. 

Frank sighed softly as he looked into the glass of wine. The lights reflected erratically, sending sparkles of burgundy across the nearly black surface of the liquid. Echoing in his mind he heard Fiona's sultry gasps as she called his name.

****


	2. Anguish

****

__

After Amy had left, Frank stayed, completely mesmerized by the chanteuse with the whiskey colored eyes. She sang a few more songs, then took a break. As he got up, he found out that he wasn't the only man in the place that wanted her attentions. Softly he chuckled and sat back down, watching as the majority of the men pushed and shoved their way back towards the private rooms in the back of the club.

"Sir."

Frank startled slightly and looked up to see the emcee of the club standing next to him. "Yes?"

"Miss Fiona sent me to bring you back to her dressing room. If you follow me, I will take you through the back way and out of the crowd."

Fiona asked for Frank to be brought back to her? She had seen him in the crowd. The next question on his mind was what did she want? He wasn't the kind to play groupie. Silently Frank followed the emcee through the liquor storage room and into the back offices.

"Through there." the man said, pointing through another door. "Down the hall and it's the first door on the left."

Frank nodded and followed the directions. Knocking softly on the door, Frank twisted the knob and peeked inside carefully. He saw Fiona lying back on the red velvet sofa, her heels kicked off onto the floor and her feet propped up on the arm of the sofa. Her eyes were closed and her head was laid back on the thick cushions. "You asked to see me, Ma'am?"

"You must be the attractive man who's date walked out on him." came the reply. Her voice was soft, accented much like his own. "I am sorry she left you here." Fiona smiled and lifted her head up. She smiled just as softly as she spoke, the smile seeming as if the woman behind it knew everything about everyone and anything. "Help yourself to some scotch or whatever you like. You look like a scotch person. Have a seat. I won't bite as long as you tell me your name."

"Frank, Frank Donovan."

"A good Irish name, Mr. Donovan. Fiona Hastings. Have a seat." She waited until he did, then she sat up and faced him, sipping at the glass of water on the low coffee table between them. "You look uneasy, like you're waiting for me to attack you or something."

"I am curious as to why you had me brought back here." Frank relaxed a bit and sat back in the matching red velvet sofa.

"To apologize. For your date, that is. Were you two serious?"

"No, not really. I thought she knew that."

"Apparently she did not. Again, I am sorry... that she left you. However, I am glad too."

"You are?"

"Yes, Mr. Donovan. That means that I get to share your company for a short while." She smiled that smile again and they talked for what seemed like hours. In reality it was only 20 minutes before the emcee knocked on the door and suggested that Fiona get ready for her second set. She sighed softly, a bit sorrowfully and stood up. She slid her shoes on easily and reached for the _sheer silk scarf that draped over the end of the sofa Frank sat on. He stood up, freeing the scarf as she pulled it gently from him._

Despite his inner wishes, he felt himself intoxicated by her. It wasn't the scotch; he'd only had one sip of it. It was more than that; just being near her was like inhaling a narcotic. She had a spicy scent about her, a heavy sweet spicy scent that reminded him of the opium dens of the Far East. Fiona looked up at him as he took the scarf from her fingers and laid it gently across her throat to flow gracefully down her shoulders. They were a breath apart when another knock at the door broke the moment. She blushed lightly and excused herself and walked to the door. Pausing for a moment, she turned around.

"If you wish... I will not object if you were here when I am finished singing." she said softly before she walked out to the crowd.

Frank stared at the picture in a small brushed-silver frame that sat on the dark leather trunk in front of him.. Lovely Fiona... It had been a publicity photo that he'd had shrunk down to fit in his wallet. She always smiled as if she knew the secrets of the universe. She smiled that smile the first time he met her.

Frank sighed. If he'd been smart, he would have walked out then and there. 'Chanteuse' he thought to himself. 'My poor Chanteuse.' He stood, leaving the glass of wine on the trunk in front of the photo. He dreaded sleep. Dreams would come with full senses to them. He'd be able to smell the dampness in the air, her perfume, hear the small sensual noises that he created in Fiona… and see the emptiness in her eyes.

Rain pattered the windowpane in his bedroom as he lay back on the bed still fully clothed. He stared at the ceiling, his arms flung wide as if in crucifixion. Maybe if he thought about it hard enough, or distracted himself long enough, the dreams wouldn't come tonight.

****


	3. Marlboro Dreams

****

Frank tossed in bed. He didn't want this dream. Flashes of red, a sticky sweet smell... The sheets tangled about his hips and legs as he tossed and turned. Whiskey colored eyes wide in shock. Another pair of blue eyes full of anger and overflowing with betrayal. Frank sat bolt upright in bed, a cold sweat running down his chest as he panted for breath in the still night. Everything was silent in his bedroom, the only noise being the air conditioning and random cars passing by on the street. Somewhere in the night he'd stripped out of his clothing… they all lay in a pile right next to the bed. 

He swung his legs out of the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached for the drawer of the bedside table and pulled it open. Inside was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The pack had one or two cigarettes missing, the lighter barely even used. However, he shook out one of the white paper wrapped Marlboro's and picked up the lighter. With shaking hands, he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. This wasn't something he usually did, smoking that is. It was usually him that chastised Alex for smoking. It was a habit he'd quit many, many years ago and only picked up again since he'd met Fiona. He watched the cherry red tip glow in the velvety darkness of his bedroom as his memory traveled back again.

__

He'd waited for her to finish singing. He could hear her through the walls, hear the applause she garnered with her voice. Why he waited, he didn't know. But he waited for her all the same. And when she was finished, she returned to that dressing room to see Frank Donovan sitting on the red velvet sofa with a glass of water in his hand. She smiled that mysterious smile again and moved past him to the dressing screen and changed her clothing. When she came out again, she was in a silk robe and had her hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck. After he'd ordered Italian food delivered in to her dressing room, the two of them continued their conversation.

She was so easy to talk to. Frank felt himself telling her things that he'd kept from the other women in his life. With no solid reason why other than he felt comfortable, he told her secrets, horrors, nightmares… Oddly enough by the end of the night, he found himself crying like a little boy with his head resting on her thigh as she rubbed his shoulders soothingly.

Fiona smiled. "Why do you trust me so easily?" she whispered.

"I don't know." Frank made no effort to sit up. This position was comforting and he found himself more relaxed than he had been in years. "I really do not know or understand why."

"There are some things in life that we will not be able to understand or explain. Perhaps this is one of those things."

Frank thought a moment, then forced himself to sit up and look at her. He studied her for a moment, his eyes taking all of her in. She was no raging beauty, little flaws caught his attention - her nose was perhaps a little too narrow and turned up at the tip, her lips were too full and her eyes were slanted a bit too much on the outside. But on the whole she was beautiful to him. It was her personality and the aura she exuded that drew him towards her.

Frank sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. He'd spent hours with Fiona that night, leaving her only at 5 in the morning. He didn't even want to leave her then. But, she made him go home and sleep. He remembered almost begging her to come with him, to not leave him alone. But Fiona, she just smiled that mysterious and haunting smile of hers and kissed him on both cheeks before closing the door between them.

__

"What exactly happened last night?!"

Frank raised an eyebrow at Amy as he sat across the bistro table from her at lunch. After getting little or no sleep that morning, he was in no mood for one of her hysterical tantrums. "What happened? You tell me, you're the one who walked out of the bar."

"Frank Donovan, you're such a bastard."

"Thank you, I try hard enough. And in case you hadn't noticed, Amy Herrad, you're no rose either."

The next think Frank saw was stars as she reached out and slapped him. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, but by then he was well past caring to return the hateful gesture.

"I loved you Frank. I still do. What I never understood is why you never loved me. Was it something I did.. something I said?"

"No, Amy. I just never really cared to have more than a casual relationship with you. You're the one who kept pushing for more."

Amy sat quietly for a moment, watching Frank. After a few minutes of golden silence, she spoke up. "Did you fuck her?"

Frank's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he stopped in mid-sip of his coffee. He took a second to compose himself, swallow the mouthful of cooling coffee and then stare at Amy. "I highly doubt that it's any of your business if I did."

"You did!!" she shrieked. "You… you… she slithers onto a stage and you know her less than a day and you're in her bed the moment my back is turned! How could you?!"

Frank groaned. One bloomin' murder of a headache was beginning to form behind his eyes and her hysterics only made it worse. He stood up to leave.

Amy jumped up and grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry!! I'm so sorry, Frank, please don't go."

"I have to go back to work Amy. Let go."

She pulled up close to him and put her arms around his neck. "Please, let me make it up to you. I see now that it was all my fault, I pushed you away and to her. Come to my place for dinner tonight, I'll cook."

"Amy," Frank unwound her arms from his neck and pushed her back from him. "No."

"You're going to her tonight, aren't you?"  


He looked at her a moment more and shook his head. She was petulant and spoiled… and she was desperately trying to keep him with her. "No. Amy, it's done. We're done."

Frank sighed and crushed out the butt in the ashtray that lay out of sight in the table drawer. He'd washed his hands of Amy that afternoon. He remembered thinking that Amy had gotten the message that he was done with her. Who the hell ever said some things were easily understood?

****


End file.
